


Something's Wrong

by CiaranthePage



Series: The Disease [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Emetophobia, Gen, Oneshot, Preview for something else to come, Vomiting, vomiting slime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 23:49:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11218809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiaranthePage/pseuds/CiaranthePage
Summary: It wasn't a very convincing attempt at comfort, really, but Magnus didn't usually lie to Angus. He picked up his bowl again, poking at what was left of his rice and fish. The only thing filling the silence was remaining embers popping with their dying wishes and the sound of Quartz and Anna arguing over something or other. Magnus, apparently not heeding his own advice, set his bowl down by Angus, stood up, and walked towards the opposite end of camp from the argument. He had just barely disappeared from view when Angus stood up and jogged after him. [more in note]





	Something's Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> as it's suggested by the tags, this is a (self-betaed lol) hypothetical scene i wrote to iron out an idea!! this is set in the same crossover universe as [Holy Boy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10843947).  
> some context: thb + angus are helping helm and his companions hunt down a cure for The Disease. The Disease is known to be... quite fatal.  
> tbh i'm mostly posting this here so i can have somewhere to cross-post it w/ tumblr. enjoy either way, though!!
> 
> oh, in case this bothers anyone: angus _is_ one of the people who throws up.

“Magnus, are you okay?” Angus asked in a whisper, setting down his mess kit bowl and looking at Magnus.

 

“J-just fine, kiddo,” Magnus said, continuing to stare down at his own bowl, still full of food. “Finish eating, we've got a lot of ground to cover today.”

 

It wasn't a very convincing attempt at comfort, really, but Magnus didn't usually lie to Angus. He picked up his bowl again, poking at what was left of his rice and fish. The only thing filling the silence was remaining embers popping with their dying wishes and the sound of Quartz and Anna arguing over something or other. Magnus, apparently not heeding his own advice, set his bowl down by Angus, stood up, and walked towards the opposite end of camp from the argument. He had just barely disappeared from view when Angus stood up and jogged after him.

 

Magnus hadn't gone too far. He was a few yards away from the back of the tent cluster, leaning against a tree with one arm. The other was pressed against his stomach in a weak attempt at comfort; his head hung low as he stared at the ground. Angus almost stepped forward from his hiding place to ask what was wrong, but Magnus suddenly tensed, and something told him to stay back. He felt almost as though he was floating away, his mind wanting so badly to run from the scene unfolding in front of him.

 

Magnus nearly doubled over, low groans of pain echoing in his throat. He gagged once, twice, and couldn't stop it. His arm came down from the tree to clutch his stomach with its twin as he lurched over, heaving. Instead of food, as Angus (or anyone, really) expected, something much more sinister started to cover the forest floor. The consistency resembled day old gravy, the substance itself shining the bright pink of carnations and glittering as if the stars were trapped inside. It seemed to cling to Magnus’ throat and face, as each mouthful took multiple gags and strings clung to his face and teeth. Some got caught in his sideburns, flecks glittering in them as he kept trying to get out whatever was left in his stomach. The sound it made when hitting the ground made Angus sicker and sicker each time, invoking images of dead bodies prodded by boots and broken skulls hitting cold stone.

 

The few minutes it lasted felt like hours. Finally, Magnus collapsed onto his knees, the last mouthful accompanied by a splatter of blood when he spat to get any remaining slime out of his mouth. Angus felt a cold sweat on his back and neck as he watched Magnus recover, coming back down to his body.

 

And then  _ he _ threw up.

 

A predictable reaction for a young child. He wasn’t normally one with a weak stomach -- detectives can’t have weak stomachs, after all -- but something about it being Magnus and seeing such an unusual and disgusting substance sent him over the edge. Luckily for him, it was all normal, just the food he’d just finished eating and the remains of his snack from the night before, but still felt and sounded as disgusting as throwing up traditionally was. Angus was much louder than Magnus had been, couldn’t help but whine between mouthfuls from the burning pain in his throat, collapsed onto his knees and into the bed of leaves around him much quicker. He pulled off his glasses between heaves, slipping them into his shirt and praying they hadn’t already been splattered with vomit. There wasn’t much to his body, really, and feeling his entire stomach come back up only made him feel that much smaller.

 

A hand rubbed his back, trying to calm the pain. Angus looked up, mostly done, to see Magnus smiling. It wasn’t a big smile, or even really a comforting smile (blood was dripping down one side of his lip), but he was trying. He wiped Angus’s mouth with his hand, still rubbing his back.

 

“You really oughta learn to stay put, Ango,” Magnus joked weakly. “You’re looking almost as bad as I am.”

 

Angus tried to respond, interrupted by a heave of only bile ripping his throat. He put a hand over his mouth, swallowing it as best as he could even as tears started slipping down his cheeks, little by little. Magnus muffled a cough and wrapped his arms around Angus, pulling him back from the piles of vomit without making him stand. Angus turned into Magnus, trying to calm himself down. “They’re gonna be looking for us eventually,” Magnus sighed. “Let’s get you up.”

 

He meant it quite literally. He picked Angus up, carrying him bridal style back into the camp. Taako, predictably, was the first to respond, followed closely by Irene. Angus had gotten most of his wits back by the time he was set down despite the slight sway of Magnus’s steps, enough to pull his glasses on and gently reassure Taako and Irene that he was just fine, his stomach had just been upset. Magnus gave him a solid pat, taking Taako’s suspicious glare with a (stronger, now) smile.

 

“We didn't stall too long, did we?” Angus asked nervously.

 

Taako ruffled his hair, sighing. “You're good, Angus. I think Magnus and I need to talk, though.”

 

Magnus laughed nervously and Irene tugged Angus away. All he could think was a simple, five-word phrase:

 

_ Something is wrong with Magnus. _


End file.
